Missing

It’s been two weeks since you left. Two solid weeks without you disturbing the air that surrounds me when you pass by, without you giving me that cold stare we’re both so capable and fond of, without you making everything else awkward for the both of us.

Without you, without you, without you.

I’ve always wondered since you left. About how you were on your first day, how your day was afterwards, and if you miss us or not. I even wonder, in some far-fetched manner, if you miss me too; if you even think about me.

I cried myself to sleep for 3 days straight after you left. It was hard waking up with eyes that wanted to bury themselves into my sockets. When I got to work on the first Monday, I went straight to your old office and just stayed there, staring at your old desk with your old chair on which laid your old jacket. That jacket, I touched, hesitatingly at first, with my fingers then with my hands then with my whole body, pressing it against my chest as close as I could, not wanting to let go.

My heart screaming “don’t go, don’t go, no please don’t be really gone” but I had to stop and force my whole self to realize that you were gone and this was real and it’s permanent. I had to swallow the truth that you’re no longer my future but my past; no longer someone who is but someone who was.

I went back to my side of the boring office, sat in my usual boring chair, made my way towards the storage room, and just stared at the ceiling. I never even bothered to open the lights. As I stared, I just kept thinking about everything I could think of since the day I first saw and met you. I couldn’t help but cry and scream and shout at the nothingness that surrounded me at my moment of great despair. The pain was so raw, much more raw than the time I knew you were leaving.

The things I thought of going through without you are finally happening and I couldn’t bare with them.

Now, even as I write this, I can’t help but feel that perhaps I’m not meant to move on and let the feelings I felt for you be a simple memory, a record of the past that was, at one moment or all of them, both sweet and bitter.

I can only hope for another time with you, another chance. I don’t want to love someone else. I want to love you and only you. I wish that my love surrounds you somehow and protects you. I pray that my love reaches you to comfort you and fill you with warmth.

I don’t want this pain to go away. I don’t want you to go away. Please, stop going away and stay. I miss you even if you don’t miss me.